


Hallway Misbehaviour

by IdlePace



Category: Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Teencast, Violence, use of strong language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdlePace/pseuds/IdlePace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sirs hang around the lockers before class but having a habit of being late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallway Misbehaviour

“One of these things is not like the other!” Blue eyes bounced from locker to locker as they danced with the ingenuous song, heavily hinting to its familiar kin.

“One of these things just doesn’t belong!” Another responded with a cheap grin as they hovered over the odd one out. “And it’s this guy!” Clammy hands pinched hungrily at the anomalous middle man’s cheeks, having the teasing easily escalate above the reach of the song.

“No Smiff! You’re hands are too sweaty!” Thick fingers fruitlessly pulled at the slippery digits, ignoring the fact that his laughter granted permission for the antics to continue.

Passersby looked at the scene as if interrupting on a play rehearsal, or a poorly timed act for a show at the zoo. The eccentric trio never failed to bring in the snooping onlookers; whether it be the accountability of their mismatched appearances or their habits for constantly pushing the bar a mile higher, they couldn’t help but be center stage.

Thunderous slams of lockers harmonized with their cluttering cackles as fingers fell back to their appropriate sides. They continued to float in their reserved world of sly jokes and heated references, not even noticing as their compartment neighbours rolled their eyes at the repetitive scene.

“Aw, poor little Trotty with his beady eyes, probably can’t even see the difference!” Smiff poked the stout one with a loose finger before nodding fervently to their other trio member DJ. Both locked smiles at one another before echoing a slang form of agreement cyclically. Their words jittered around before the sound melded into melodic hums, slipping to a spontaneous tune. Each fell into their well-practiced spots, coordinating impeccably as the shortest member put on a classic annoyance in his tones to swirl out high pitch sounds.

Chuckles hindered their wrap up of the melody as they could not contain the humour they found in the improvisation. “Oh God that voice just wrecks my ears.” The towering teen rubbed at his temples as the other two continued their laughter, “How’s it even possible that a squeaky little voice like that can come out of you?” 

Trott faced his locker in time to feel a playfully nudge to his shoulder, “What can I say? It’s a gift really. I’ve been blessed by the Gods to have the ability to literally irritate you to death if I so choose.” He cracked a crooked smile to exhibit his dull uneven teeth, garnished with a full set of fluorescently coloured braces. His half-awake morning stare undecidedly twisted between his wide open locker and the bright acidic green hair on Smiff’s head.

“So it’s my place for games tonight then?” DJ piped in as he scratched at his lengthening stubble, “The regular: everyone chips in for pizza yeah?”

Smiff bunched his lips together to add to the wiggle of his head and shoulders, “Sure thing mate, but if we’re sharing a pizza again we all need to agree with toppings alright?”

“Yeah, this time only two kinds of meat. So much salt again and I swear my heart is gonna explode!” Trott animated his face to partner up with his dramatic explosion sound before elbowing the dark haired teen as he swiped his phone out of his pocket.

A pathetic whine droned out from Ross as he waved his hands in the air, “Fine! You guys be sissies than.” He tapped in a text to his phone, ignoring the overly sceptical face Smiff adorned. “Thought you two would be all over the meat…” He chuckled slowly and deliberately as he carelessly tossed his phone into his bag.

“Ooh we got ourselves a joker on our hands here!” Smiff gritted out as his aggressive humour sprung free, “You’re just a sad, sad little man because you can’t join our club.” His hands drifted to Trott’s shoulders, hastily grabbing at the fabric of his sweater. “Right Trotty?” His cheeks rounded from his tooth filled grin as he laid his head on top of Trott’s rushed brush job of a morning hairstyle.

“Yeah, it’s called the Cock Club!” Trott gleefully chirped back.

DJ’s eyebrows sunk on his forehead, “The what?” His question was light and full of laughter despite his phoney frightened tones.

“Chicken is so the best meat out there that we went and made a club for it!” He smiled at the cleverness of his words, “And that’s why you can’t join, ‘cause you can’t pick a favorite.” Trott could feel hands clamp around his forearms to severely animate along with his words. Comfortably allowing his upper body to be used like a marionette Trott even bent his fingers to point a snooty digit at DJ.

“Well it doesn’t sound like I’d want to be in such a narrow minded club anyway. I can’t just be a one meat kind of man. Don’t know how you two can be so restrictive on yourselves!” Swinging his bag slackly onto his shoulder DJ sucked at his cheeks as if to call a horse, “Well come on, we’ve got class to get to before we’re late again.”

Breathing a deep sigh along the part in Trott’s hair Smiff released his hold on the other to slip to his own locker, “Yeah, better not be late again. Don’t think my parents will be too happy if I get my third call this week from the office.”

“Would be your third time this week already? Naughty boy!” Trott’s voice revved in his chest as he added mock density to the conversation using the forced strain he placed on his words.

Smiff whipped his head around with his cheap grin plastered back onto his face, “Ooh you like the sounds of that don’t you? You sick bastard!” Bending his knees Smiff’s hands found Trott’s round sides, “Huh? Ooh you make me sick!”

Trott’s laugh was poorly contained as he could feel the sharp touches of the fingers through his sweater, “I do I do! “ He growled back as the large eyes met his. Their nefarious smiles bashed together as Smiff’s less than nimble lean in brought more force than needed. Their mouths moved together as they both kept keen eye contact, imitating each other’s over the top facial expressions. Smiff’s tongue slipped out to suck at Trott’s braces, leaving the bitter taste of wet metallic on his tongue as each bump threatened to cut his skin. Trott slurped in a threatening spill of saliva as his own tongue crept along the inside of Smiff’s bottom lip, pulling back and forth on the plump flesh. The moist sounds stemming from their messy mouths triggered a pulled face from DJ as he whined light-heartedly about their public displays of affection. Their awkward movements snubbed him as they rubbed pouted lips together, mirroring the scrunched face before them.

“Can you two be any more off putting?” Snide words sliced open their bubble as they were forced to acknowledge a neighbour.

“Ridge, can you be more of an ass? Don’t think we heard you the first time.” DJ squared his shoulders as he defended his alarmed friends, “You want to say something? Go on, say it.” His snarl tightened as he cracked his knuckles.

Perfectly primped eyebrows lifted with his eye roll, “You two call that a kiss? It’s almost as disgusting as Trott’s teeth.” He flicked his quiff back into place as he shut his locker door.

“Oi! Oi! Oi!” Smiff jumped back to his full height and with one quick movement slid up beside Ridge. His hand flew to the collar of the designer shirt, bunching the material in his newly formed fist. He extended his arm in lightning speed, slamming Ridge’s body into the metal wall behind him, “You want a fucking black eye mate?!” Hoisting his fist higher into the air he slammed Ridge into the lockers again, reveling in the lack of fight he was putting up, “You want to say that again? Do ya now?!”

“Hey! Careful you idiot!” Ridge finally retaliated after catching up with the situation, “Why is what I said such a big shocker to you huh? You both basically say the same thing all the time!” Forcing Smiff away with an open palm shove Ridge tried his best to even the wrinkles out in his shirt.

Smiff riled back up again, refusing to take any kind of reprisal. He doubled his chances by thrusting both his hands into the mix, grabbing back at the collar of Ridge’s shirt, using another rough shove for his back to meet the lockers again, “Yeah, you wanna know why? ‘Cause I’m the only person allowed to say it.” His snarky tongue stuck out between his clamped teeth to taunt the other teen, “And who are you to make teeth comments anyway? Mr. Big ol’ bucked gap tooth, huh?”

The rest of the trio stood quietly as they let Smiff deal with his anger, even if his ways were less than ideal on school property. DJ had already retrieved his phone to busy himself, unamused from the typical situation. Trott didn’t share DJ’s apathy as he meekly hid his teeth with the back of his hand. His daze broke when Ridge shouted back a stream of profanity, full of rage in lieu of another comment, angered by the mocking name.

With a stuttered sigh Trott tapped Smiff on the back. Smiff’s head strained to find the distraction but the moment he saw Trott’s face his wrath melted away as his eyes flickered around, feeling almost embarrassed by his actions. His hands left Ridge to be stuffed deep into his pants pockets, “Sorry mate.” He mumbled almost with actual regret stained in his voice. “Got carried away…”

Trott smiled brightly up at the other, “Nah, it’s alright. You always have such a short fuse.” Reaching up Trott brushed back the spiked green hair, observing every small detail on how Smiff shuffled in spot from the attention. “See, if you sit back and think for a bit, you’ll really understand how to address the circumstance.” Leaning around the tall teen, Trott pushed to stand in front of the frazzled Ridge who crossed his arm, disappointed he hadn’t take the chance to get Smiff back when he could. “I could have let you guys continue, but you were missing a vital part.

Smiff puffed with a laugh as Trott continued his rare textbook linguistics, “Yeah? And what would that be professor Trotty?”

Out of the blue, or right on cue, DJ started up a beat boxing background, giving the conversation a heavy bass line to intensify the moment, “Well…” Trott exposed all his barred teeth, “You didn’t hit his weak point.”

Tilting his head to the side Ridge scoffed, “What weak point?”

Instantaneously, Trott’s arm drew its full length back to land a brutal fist right into Ridge’s stomach. The gussied boy lurched forward with a dry cough shadowed by stammering gasps for air. Trott stepped back with a cheeky smile as he watched the teen buckle to the floor, still reeling from the sudden force. Smiff’s face lit up brighter than the sun as he watched Ridge continue to break his throat for air.

Off to the side DJ’s beat boxing stopped in favour of shouting: “Eat shit!” In a continuous cycle as he contained himself from jumping on spot.

Crackling through all the noise, the school bell belt out its ring, leaving a piercing residue on student’s ears. “Ah fuck we’re late again!” Smiff laughed tossing his backpack over his shoulders. DJ waved his arm in one great gesture for them to follow before turning round and jolting down the hall.

Trott nodded to Smiff with an eagerness to his movements before they both left Ridge to writhe, soon catching up to DJ. Their devious laughs echoed down the hall as they skidded to a halt, trying to find their breathing.

Trott and Smiff watched DJ slip into his classroom, tactlessly failing on sneaking in undetected. They shared in another flimsy chuckle before the taller of the two dipped again to reach the other, vibrating his lips against the soft cheek.

“Ugh Smiff,” Trott teased as he could feel the cool air nip at the slobbered spot on his face.

“Yeah, what is it you perverted fucker?” Rolling his forehead against Trott’s, he made sure to flick their noses together each time he rolled back to the center. 

“Get to class already,” He gave a spirited push to unglue them before wiping the spit on his cheek away with his sleeve, “People will start to think we’re dating.”

Backing up to his own classroom, Smiff smiled as he watched Trott do the same, both laughing silently, “Wouldn’t want to give them that impression now would we?”


End file.
